Save The Day
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: UPDATED 12.20.08 I know you guys were waiting! Young Sam and Dean story. When their father gets in over his head, it's up to a 17 year old Dean and 13 year old Sam to save him...if they can. R
1. The Phone Call That Began It All

**Title: Save The Day**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Spoilers: None, really. **

**Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine and I don't feel like putting something clever as my disclaimer. Oh, and there's a bit of language in here—what you would expect from teenagers, basically.**

**Summary: When their father gets in over his head, it's up to a 17 year old Dean and 13 year old Sam to save him, if they can.**

**I love writing about them when they were younger. Reviews will be cherished with all my heart. -sunny smile- **

**This first chapter's a bit long, please don't get bored…please…**

**On with the tale.**

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"Sam! Sam, I'm home!"

No response from Sam's room, and Dean proceeded to barrel down the hallway.

"Sammy!"

He popped open the door, only to find his worst nightmare. His adolescent brother was posing, barely clothed, in front of the slightly cracked full-length mirror hanging on the wall.

"DEAN!"

"Damn! Whoa!" Dean chuckled and grimaced at the same time, at the sight of his little brother flexing his 'muscles'. Sam's starkly pale and bony chest could light up a room with white luminosity.

"Can't you _knock_ first?" Sam fumed, a blush forming over his defined cheekbones.

"Sammy, I was yelling my ass off the entire way down the hall!"

"Well, then…yell louder next time!" Sam huffed as he threw a shirt on over his lanky frame. Brushing past his older brother, he shot him a lasered stare that was dulled in intensity by the red cheeks still present upon the face of the humiliated Winchester.

"Dude, come on!" Dean snickered as he tailed his brother down the tiny hallway.

"It was hella funny!"

Sam didn't respond and entered the kitchen, pulling out the gallon of milk. He swigged it straight from the carton.

"So unsanitary, Sammy, Dad would kick your scrawny ass if he saw that," Dean grinned as he swiped the milk from his unsuspecting sibling, taking a gulp himself before replacing it in it's rightful place.

Sam plopped down on the couch in the living room, engulfing the house in a stony silence. He turned on the television to lessen the quiet.

"When's Dad coming back anyway?" Sam asked Dean, his back still facing his brother.

"Sometime this week,"

"I need him to sign a permission slip for a field trip next month,"

"Hey, I can do that!"

Sam grimaced, turning up the volume.

"Dean, I can just wait for dad,"

"Why? I can do his signature better than him,"

Sam sighed and slouched further. "I can just wait for dad, Dean,"

Dean chortled, sensing an opportunity. "Does this have anything to do with that pesky thing you have called a conscience?" He cracked. "I mean, whoo, forging a permission slip, that's right up there with insurance fraud and credit card scams, right?" Dean sniggered at his own joke as Sam flipped through one staticky channel after another.

"I want the t.v. Don't you have homework or something to do?" Dean questioned after a beat of silence. He flopped down on the couch beside his brother.

"Don't you?" Sam shot back angrily, tensing up.

"Geez, calm down. Seriously, what the hell's wrong with you today? PMS bothering you again?"

Sam seemed to want to say something. He opened his mouth, then with a glance at the teen sprawled beside him, shut it again.

"Sammy, come on. You know you can tell me anything," Dean said soberly, lifting his legs down from their previous position on the coffee table. "You know how I hate this shit, just tell me already so I can fix it,"

Sam stuttered out a partial statement. "Am I—"

"Are you what?"

"Am I too skinny?"

Dean shot a sidelong glance at Sam, who was clamping his lips together so tight that they were turning white. _You would think it was an international disaster or something…_Dean responded with a natural reaction to unusual statements.

"Huh?"

"I mean, do you think I need to lift weights or something?"

Dean's mouth hung open. _Since when is he insecure? Oh yeah… since he turned thirteen._

"Where the fuck is this coming from? Dude, that's just weird,"

"Remember that girl that you said was really hot when you picked me up from school last week?"

"The little Indian chick? Hell yeah."

Dean was starting to space out, so Sam hastened with his tale.

"I heard her talking about me today…"

"Score, Sammy!"

"NO, Dean. She was—I mean, she…she was telling her friends how I looked—how I looked like a…a grasshopper and…"

Dean smothered a laugh with the back of his hand. He could tell by Sam's hurt look that this girl's comment had actually affected the little guy.

"Since when do you care what other people think of you?"

Sam didn't answer. He was too busy boring a hole into the television set with his fixed gaze.

"You're thirteen, Sammy. It's not the end of the world, you know. Eventually, you know, you'll look like your big brother here—" Dean paused to flex his bicep, "—because manliness runs in our genes, dude,"

Sam snorted in assent, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, Sam, don't worry about some little girl talking shit. It's not worth your mighty brain capacity to brood over it,"

Sam pondered this for a moment, before getting over it and moving on. For some reason, Dean's 'words of wisdom' never failed to cheer him up. After a few moments of staring comfortably at the t.v., Sam grew restless and yearned for a friendly fight.

"You know, I'm taller than you," There was a smile on his lips as he gauged his older brother's reaction to this comment. As far as he could tell, he got no reaction but a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Maybe someday, Sammy, maybe someday," Dean grinned and stood up. Without warning, he pounced on Sam, and within seconds both boys were wrestling on the ground. In between yelps and "Cry Uncle!"s, Dean heard the phone ring. Triumphantly, he pinned his brother and leapt to his feet. Heading into the kitchen, he picked up the cordless.

"Hello?" Dean panted. He heard static on the line, then a vaguely familiar crackle.

"Dad? Dad, is that you?" Dean was instantly alert. Their father didn't usually call until around ten at night to check on his sons.

Sam had managed to untangle his various limbs and now stood, hair plastered to his forehead in perspiration. He knew immediately that something was wrong; he could feel it.

Dean heard his father trying to keep his voice calm on the line.

"Werewolv…Dean—they're all…I just….don't…"

"Dad! Dad, I can't hear you!" Dean's voice raised along with his level of worry. "Where are you?"

"Don't come…Wisconsin…won't be back for—"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Too dangero—don't come looking for…I can…care of mysel…"

The line was slowly fading.

"Son—don't worr…might be awhile…"

"Dad! Are you hurt?" Dean held his breath, not knowing if John would tell him the truth, knowing the worry it would cause.

"I can…can't call…won't be able…make sure Sam—"

And then the line went dead.

"Dad? Dad! You there?" Dean turned around, phone dangling, forgotten, in his hand. He faced Sam, who had turned a pasty shade of white.

"What happened? To Dad?"

"I don't know…I think—" Dean paused to take a breath, "—I think he's hurt,"

He stared at the phone, willing John to call back.

"Whaddya mean?" Sam stuttered. He sank into the couch once more. Dean replaced the phone in the cradle, ignoring the beeping noise it emitted.

"I don't know," Dean said again, running his hands agitatedly through his hair. Suddenly, he was in charge. Dean couldn't believe that just a few minutes ago, they had been carelessly wrestling on the ground. _And now…shit! What the hell am I supposed to do?_ He looked over at Sam, and forced himself to calmly put his hands back into his pockets.

"Dad's never called us for no reason before, it's weird, for sure. I think…"

"He was saying goodbye? Forever?"

Quickly, Dean stepped to his brother's side.

"Sammy, _no._ He's not leaving us,"

"Is he going to die?" Sam's eyes were wide. _He looks like a child, _Dean thought. Then a wave of pity washed over him. _He still is._

"Sam! No. He's not. He said he could handle it, I trust him—" All of these lies were told with bated breath. Dean hoped that Sam wouldn't pick up on the negative energy he was sure he was exuding in all directions. While he was comforting his brother, Dean's mind was running rapidly through possibilities that would help his father's actions and words make sense.

"Dean, he always says he can handle it! He could be missing a limb and he wouldn't let us know because he doesn't want us to worry!" Sam cried, his emotions evident in his voice.

Dean knew the truth in this statement, but he couldn't bring himself to think that over three hundred miles away, their father was in trouble and was just calling to tell them…_tell us what? Those weren't exactly last words…_

Dean's mind raced. _But in the John Winchester way, they kind of were... 'take care of Sammy'? 'I won't be back for a while'? What the hell? _

Then the lightbulb flickered over his head. _He called so we wouldn't worry. He was telling us not to come after him…_Dean felt nauseated at his thoughts, _because it's too dangerous._

"If he didn't want us there, Sammy, you know something's up," Dean spoke his thoughts out loud, wincing as he realized what he said.

There was no answer for a second, then Sam lifted his head to reveal fierce, determined eyes. "What's his job?"

"Werewolves…" Dean stated distantly. "Hey, Sammy, today's Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah- oh, I get it,"

"Yeah. If we leave now, we'll be there before midnight. It's only six now, so…"

"So we can find dad, get rid of the werewolves,"

"And be back before Monday," _Sam and Dean save the day, _Dean thought darkly. He was already moving towards the phone to try and call John's cellphone again. He would leave a message—he had a feeling their father wouldn't pick up. He had said to the boys, _Only call me if there's an emergency._

"Oh, wait," Sam's voice came out of the fog of Dean's mind. "I have a math test tomorrow,"

Dean turned in a fury, focusing his eyes on his brother as Sam instantly realized the error of his words.

"Dean, no, I didn't mean…"

"Our FATHER is in trouble up in fucking WisCONsin, and you tell me you have a MATH TEST you're worried about missing? Good to know you have your priorities straight, bro. Remind me never to call you in I'm in a motherfucking jam!"

Sam recoiled, feeling his brother's words sear his bones. And in an instant, he was raging mad. He took the opposite view in order to fight with his brother out of a sense of injustice.

"We don't even know if he's in trouble!"

"Ten minutes ago, you were freaking out because—"

"Dean, we're teenagers with guns! Going on a botched up rescue mission for someone who can take care of themself—" Sam was actually starting to believe the statements coming out of his mouth. He still felt anger at the last argument he had with his father, and let it all go in a flurry of words that he knew were cruel. _He's our DAD, _his inner voice berated. _He's all we have left in the world._

"If he's not in danger, this would be an entire waste of time!" Sam felt like taking the words back before they came out. _I've gone too far. _Dean held up a hand at this.

"Sam. I'm going. That _someone_ happens to be my father. Don't come if you don't want to study for that math test of yours,"

Sam felt immensely awful, and opened his mouth to apologize.

"Dean, I…"

Dean sighed, and lowered his hand, looking at his brother with something like acceptance in his eyes. "Sammy, I know him. And he wouldn't call at six in the evening for no reason. He sounded like he was in trouble, and I'm not taking a chance, okay?"

Dean disappeared into his room and shut the door. Sam knew he would be packed and ready in minutes, and hastened to make things right. Tentatively, he knocked on the door.

"Dean?"

No answer.

"Dean, I'm not letting you go alone. I didn't mean to say all that—I don't know why I did, I'm sorry. Besides, werewolves are dangerous, I've read about them,"

The door opened in Sam's startled face. Dean shoved a duffle bag at him.

"Don't shit your pants, don't get in the way, don't get yourself killed," With that powerful message, Dean started back into his room.

"Oh, and if you're coming, pack up your shit and grab the guns," he threw casually over his shoulder.

Dean leaned his back against his dresser and sighed once Sam had run off. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. _Unbelievable._ He couldn't believe how much things changed with one phone call. It had seemed so long ago. Now, it was up to Dean and the always-reluctant Sam to find out what was going on.

_It's up to us to save Dad._ Because at this point, Dean had no hesitance in saying that their father needed them. He had analyzed their conversation inside his head until he thought he knew what Freud felt like. Dean could feel that something was wrong.

_Always trust your instincts,_ John's voice whispered into Dean's ear.

Sam entered the room, the duffel overflowing with clothes, gauze, ointment, and other necessities that the boy had just tossed into the bag. Dean eyed his brother carefully, watching as Sam shot him a sheepish grin.

"Are you coming or not?"

Dean shook his head in disbelief. _My brother and his PMS._

"Did you get the weapons yet?"

"I put them in a bag…I have the silver bullets, rock salt, real bullets, the .44, the .99, our Winchesters, some other shotguns and rifles, a can of kerosene—"

Sam rattled off his list and Dean mentally checked them off.

"You know that the only thing that can kill a werewolf is a silver bullet, right?"

"Duh," was Sam's snotty reply. "But I thought we should take the other stuff, too. Because, you know. Supernatural stuff is attracted to us,"

_True, _Dean thought. He zipped up his duffel, and as an afterthought, headed over to the bed and reached under the pillow. Dean extracted a large, sharp hunting knife and tucked it into the front pocket of his bag.

Sam's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"You sleep with that under your pillow?"

"What did you expect, Sam? A dollar that the tooth fairy left for me?" Dean actually got a smile out of Sam on that one. He muttered curses under his breathe as he moved the heavy duffel onto his shoulder.

"Do you know where I left the keys?"

"Did Dad take the truck?"

"No, genius child, he took the Impala, which is why _I_'ve been driving it to school this week,"

"Oh. Right."

"That reminds me," Dean snapped his fingers, turning in a wide, pointless circle. "We have to report ourselves absent for the rest of the week,"

"Dean…" Sam was reluctant to get into another argument with his brother.

"Sam, seriously! First the permission slip, and now you won't even ditch? What happened to your Winchester logic here, dude?"

Sam sighed, and Dean began to lose his patience.

"Okay, Sammy, gimme the phone," Dean motioned at his cellphone lying on the dresser across the room. Sam took a step towards it before stopping.

"What are you gonna do with it?" He asked warily, eyeing the device as one would check out a bomb.

"Chuck it at your head, smartass, what do people usually do with phones?"

Dean caught the phone as it sailed through the air, and dialed his school's attendance office number, which he suspiciously knew by heart. He left a voice message saying that the Winchesters had all contracted a contagious illness, and would have to miss school for the rest of the week to benefit public health. He then made Sam get his middle school's number, and left the same message for his younger brother's attendance secretary.

"All done," Dean stuck the phone into the pocket of his jeans. "Load up the car,"

Sam huffed and grabbed Dean's bag as well as his own. "Your keys are on the coffee table," he called from the living room on his way out of the house.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled, more to himself. For a moment, he rested on the edge of his bed. As he lay back, his arms over his head, he thought of the challenges ahead. He had hunted alone before, or hunted with John, or hunted with all three of them together—but he had never felt so responsible for Sam before. He had never felt so vulnerable before, knowing that their father wasn't around to bail Sammy out if he got in too deep. _Now it's _Dad_ who's in too deep. _This felt strange…Sam and Dean out to rescue the legendary John Winchester from a pack of werewolves, which they knew next to nothing about. And he would have to watch out for Sam, as well.

He had never felt more burdened. _Can I watch Sam, help slash save Dad, and fight off a pack of werewolves at the same time?_ Dean didn't want to involve Sam too much in this one – werewolves were a trickly lot to mess with, and one slip-up could mean evisceration by sharp claws.

_Good thing Sammy reads a lot_. Dean smiled faintly. At least Sam knew the book version of killing a werewolf.

Dean had only faced werewolves once before, and that was with John. Sam had stayed at home with a babysitter- he had only been eight years old.

Dean was broken out of his thoughts by his little brother's shout.

"Dean! Come on! Let's go!"

_Yeah. _Dean thought, rising steadily to his feet. _Let's go._

**TBC…**

**REVIEW! CH 2 up shortly...**


	2. The Second Call

**Sorry guys, I know this is short, I'm just so busy. I promise I'll update again this weekend, hopefully before that!**

**Same disclaimers, etc. apply here. **

**Enjoy and review please!**

**Chapter Two- The Second Call**

"You have no fucking clue how to use a map, do you?"

"I thought the blue line was a river!"

"It's a motherfucking highway, dipshit! It even says right there--" punctuated by a jab-"Interstate 370! Check it out, genius!"

"Jerk,"

"You're the one that had us heading to Tennessee!"

Sam fumed in the passenger seat, looking like a little, angry child. Dean muttered under his breath and Sam caught a few words here and there.

"Midnight…gas station…stupid…maps…"

Dean threw the car around a curve, and the car lifted slightly on one side. They could have been in Wisconsin hours ago if Dean had been the one reading the map. _Who knows what kind of trouble Dad could be in right now._

"Try calling Dad's cell again," Dean ordered.

Obediently, Sam pulled out Dean's cellphone and dialed their father's number.

"Do you want me to leave another message?"

"Won't do any good if he hasn't gotten the other fifteen thousand," was Dean's sarcastic answer.

Sam flipped the phone shut, wincing as his finger caught in it.

Nasty, smoldering silence filled the car as Dean worried and Sam brooded. Dean was driving like a teenager on crack, with the music blaring some AC/DC tunes into Sam's ears.

"Can you be careful?" Sam's tone was clipped as Dean barely missed running over a cardboard box in the middle of the lane. In response, Dean eased off the accelerator and cruised down the rest of the way. Spotting a McDonalds on the side of the road, he turned into the exit lane.

"We'll get back on the road after we eat. We're not stopping anywhere tonight," Dean said a bit harshly, as he turned into the nearly-empty parking lot.

Sam hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

Dean shook his head and grunted, following his brother into the restaurant, eyeing his surroundings out of habit. His mind went reassuringly to the knife tucked into his back pocket.

He wasn't taking any chances this trip.

Sam slipped into a booth in the back, scowling. Dean headed to the front to order four cheeseburgers and fries.

He managed to carry the entire tray in one trip, frowning at his unhelpful brother. Dean sighed as Sam grabbed a burger, chucking the wrapper in the general direction of Dean. Dean got the hint.

At that exact moment, the shrill sound of Dean's phone ringing cut through the tension as if it were a knife.


	3. Strategies and Screwups

**Okay, so here's the next chappie…I know this is short too. But we're getting to the good parts now, I think you'll enjoy this. I heart suspense. **

**Chapter Three: Strategies and Screwups**

**Enjoy and REVIEW!**

The brothers eyed the phone hungrily, and Dean shot a glance at Sam before grabbing it up from its honored spot atop the table.

"Hello?...No, what?...WHAT? Wrong NUMBER…"

Sam looked down at his food, suddenly not hungry anymore as Dean angrily tucked the phone into his jacket.

It was the first time that Sam began to wonder what would happen to them if something happened to their dad. _Foster care? Orphanage?_

He's fine, Sam reassured himself. He has to be. _He always is. He's Dad._

"Sam? Hello, earth to Sam," Dean waved the phone in front of Sam's face. Sam lifted his eyes, and Dean was struck by his sunken gaze.

_Geez, _Dean thought sadly. _He has the eyes of someone who's been through so much at such a young age…_

But that was who Sam was. _Only thirteen._ They had both been forced to grow up too fast, and Dean had regret buried deep inside him for that. But he couldn't blame their father as much as Sam did sometimes…he had done the best he could.

"Something bad happened to him," Sam stated, lowering his gaze once more.

"What?" Dean was startled from the process of putting the phone into his jacket.

"Something happened to dad. We have to hurry," Sam wouldn't look into his brother's piercing, questioning eyes.

"How do you know that?" Dean's mouth hung open in confusion.

"Trust me, Dean. I just know," Sam pushed away his food and stood.

"I'll be in the car," He exited quickly, leaving Dean to stare after him.

Questions and fragments ran through Dean's mind as he watched his brother's retreating form through the dirty windows. In a daze, he stood and emptied the barely-eaten food into the garbage. He stood still for a moment beside the doors, contemplating. He trusted Sam's instincts wholly, because Sam had gotten them out of some sticky situations before. Dean didn't know how Sam had these feelings, but he felt that Sam was right. Something bad happened, and they had to help their father. Dean had a feeling of his own that something shitty was going down.

They had to find their father. Because Dean wouldn't know what to do without him.

Sam couldn't lose another parent.

Dean fumbled in his pocket for his keys as he left the McDonalds, the door swinging squeakily behind him. As he strode toward the car, boots crunching on gravel, he saw Sam sitting in the passenger seat staring straight ahead. His eyes looked glazed. _Like he's having an out-of-body experience, _Dean thought worriedly. He slid behind the wheel, startling his brother. Dean acted as though nothing was wrong.

"I figured we should be there in an hour if I drive fast," he commented calmly, putting the key in the ignition and trying not to let his hand shake.

"Too bad I don't know how to drive," Sam said, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips.

"Yeah, and you're not learning in this car," Dean retorted. He shot a sidelong look at Sam.

"So, Sammy, what's up with you?"

Sam looked at Dean like he had grown two heads.

"Well, let's see," Dean sighed, realizing his mistake at once," "I have to miss two days of school, the girl that I thought was into me was stringing me along, our dad is missing and injured, we're going on a rescue mission with no background information whatsoever, and I'm stuck in a car with my brother who has a tendency to speed through yellow lights. That pretty much sums it up right there,"

This failed to provoke a satisfactory response from Dean.

"Try calling dad,"

"Why? Dean, we both know he's not going to pick up."

"When did you become such a pessimist, little brother? Maybe Dad was just drunk or something when he called us and this is all a mixup. Maybe your instincts are nothing more than hunger considering you haven't eaten since lunch. Maybe…"

"Dean,"

Dean was silenced by Sam's tone. _Wishful thinking_, Sam's voice conveyed.

To humor his brother, Sam took the offered phone and punched in their father's number, not expecting anything other than the same message he had been listening to over the past few hours.

"_Hello?"_

"Dad!" Sam exclaimed, causing Dean to beep the horn in surprise.

"Dad, is that you? Where are you? What's going—"

Dean snatched the phone from Sam's ear, one eye on the road.

"Dad…yeah, we are…no, what the hell? Sammy _knew _that something was wrong, you can't…How the hell am I supposed to know how he knew? He's not wrong, is he? I knew it… You have to go to a hospital, or at least someplace safe…no, Dad! Just wait…don't…we're on our way, just wait…of course we're coming, just tell us...yeah, should I have not brought him? We were just trying to help…why? What? Dad, you there?"

Dean shut the phone slowly.

"What did he say?" Sam's eyes were questioning, curious, tired, all his emotions assaulting Dean at once. _I'm too tired for this shit_.

Dean's mouth settled into a grim line. "He's hurt. He's alone. He's going back to the forest to wrangle the werewolves again."

"By _himself_?" Sam yelped. "How hurt is he?" _If he won't go to a hospital, maybe it's not that bad…_

"He said a few scratches and bruises, but he could barely talk," Dean seemed to be conversing with himself. "I wouldn't put it past him to have a busted jaw and broken bones and still try to get rid of –"

"How far is he from here?" Sam interrupted, his heartbeat increasing.

_Hold on, Dad. Don't do something stupid…_

"About a hundred miles from here,"

"We'll never get there in time if he's going back now, of all times,"

"You know Dad, he won't stop until the job's done." _Not even if it gets him killed._ Dean felt the adrenaline rush through his body.

"We'll get there in time," Dean tried to reassure the young Winchester, doing nothing to alleviate his own doubts or quell his fears. Dean's lips thinned as he pushed down on the gas pedal.

"Do we know anything about these werewolves, like—"

"Sam, I've already told you a million times! Dad didn't tell us anything when he left, and he sure as hell didn't tell me anything on the phone, okay? They're werewolves. As long as we have silver bullets, we'll be fine," Dean stopped his tirade, not looking at his brother. Neither of them believed that, as Sam knew from his books that each pack of werewolves had its own distinctive hunting pattern. _Without knowing that, we might as well offer ourselves to 'em,_ Sam though pessimistically. Sam stared out the window, his mind going through possible attack strategies. But without knowing the terrain…

Dean was going through the same doubt-and-think phase. _We need to know more, _his inner voice said. _We're as good as dead if there's something else going on here._

_There isn't anything else going on here, _he reassured himself. _We can do this. No time to research; anyways, Dad already did that. We just need to make sure he's okay…fight 'em off with him…_

_Save him. And watch our own asses, too._

"So what's the plan?"

Dean gritted his teeth as Sam piped up from the seat next to him. "Remind me to stick you in the trunk next time,"

"If we don't have a plan…"

"How the fuck are we supposed to have a plan if we don't even know what the hell we're doing?"

Dean's words rang throughout the car, and Sam recoiled, startled. Dean sighed.

"Look, Sammy, I know that we usually do all that planning shit, but do you really think this is the time to stop off at a library and discuss the exact type of werewolf that lives in Greenbay National Park? Huh?"

"Did you say Greenbay?"

Dean glanced at Sam. "Yeah, why?"

"Last year, we were researching national parks, and I remember hearing about Greenbay. Apparently, there have been a ton of unexplainable maulings over the years that've been passed off as bear attacks and stuff, but no one's really sure,"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "How does that help us, in any way?"

"Well, we know that they've been there for a while, probably growing and breeding,"

"Okay…"

"So the reason Dad probably went up there was because there was another attack, and we know the pack must be stronger and bigger…"

Sam paused, and Dean nodded, giving him permission to go on.

"That's all I've got,"

Dean exhaled loudly, thumping his hand on the wheel in frustration. "Thanks for the educational information, genius. That really helped out, I think we're ready to go face a huge pack of strong werewolves now, don't ya think?"

They were silent for a while, both thinking.

"Doesn't Dad usually tell us what he's doing and where and why…"

"Yeah, but he was rushed this time. Just got off that poltergeist gig where he came really close to flying out a three-story window, so I think he was a bit distracted,"

"Dad? Distracted?" Sam was utterly perplexed, and Dean grinned.

"He's not God, you know. He _does _have his moments too,"

"Yeah, I know _that._ You mean, like not waiting for us to help him with the werewolves?"

"Or him not going to a hospital to make sure he's not bleeding to death,"

"Or not telling us that he's hurt so we know what to expect,"

"This is so fucked up, you know? I don't think we've ever saved _his _ass before,"

Sam didn't have a response for that, because he had been thinking the exact same thing. It wasn't like John to be distracted enough to not tell the boys what he was doing.

"He was trying to protect us," Sam said softly.

"Yeah, how do you figure?"

"He didn't want us to come after him, because he knew it would be dangerous. But it's not like this is protecting us either. So basically, he screwed up,"

"Dad knows what he's doing," Dean was now officially speeding along the rural interstate, going close to a hundred miles per hour.

"Like you said, Dean, he's not God."

Dean shut his mouth, cursing internally. _Just hang on, Dad. We'll sort this out later._

**Review, review, review…**


	4. Decisions and Questions

**Yay! Action chapter! Well, towards the end…and next chapter…stick with me, we're getting to the good stuff. I couldn't wait to update, so I decided, well, I'll update again today. Cheers!**

**If you don't like violence, you might not like the next chapter—just a warning. And if you don't like angst—well, why are you reading my stories? Geez. **

**Hugs and kisses from the fairytalemanipulator (yours truly)-- but only if you review! Mwah!**

**Chapter Four: Decisions and Questions**

"Are you _sure _he said Greenbay National Park?" Sam whispered loudly for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

"I'm not deaf, dude! Yeah, that's what he said. Now, shut the hell up," Dean muttered. They were both crouched low behind a boulder at the edge of the park, scanning the horizon.

_For what? Werewolves jumping out of the ground?_ Dean thought to himself. They had been waiting here for ten minutes while Dean made a last-ditch effort to come up with a viable strategy. They sped all the way out to the park, making it in barely an hour. It took another fifteen minutes to locate the woods, which happened to be luckily at the very edge of the state. Dean had never been in a national park before, and he wasn't sure what would happen if a ranger found them with two shotguns, three revolvers, and three knives between the two of them. Not to mention the bag of miscellaneous grenades, lighter fluid, matches, and so on.

_Do they even have rangers here? _Dean wondered. _How is this gonna work out if some ranger finds us burning werewolf carcasses?_

"Dean?" came Sam's impatient whisper.

"WHAT?" Dean's equally perturbed response was delivered in his expert exasperated big-brother tone.

"How are the werewolves changing if they only appear during the full moon?"

Dean was silent.

"That's a—a good question, Sammy,"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Yeah, I mean I don't know,"

"Dad hasn't been gone a month, and the maulings were never regular, so maybe these aren't werewolves,"

"Dad fought them, remember? He said they were werewolves,"

"Well, maybe Dad was wrong,"

Sam was pushing all of Dean's buttons. "Sammy, there are other ways for werewolves to change forms!" He tried to keep his tone even. "They could be working with a witch, they could know a spell, they could—there could be lots of things!"

"So then there _aren't _only werewolves in these woods? Is it going to be harder to kill them then?"

Dean shot daggers at Sam through his glare. _If looks could kill…_

"Samuel. I—do—not—know."

"So then they could be really powerful?"

"Holy shit!" Dean roared, the sound echoing off the empty clearing. Sam jolted like he had been shocked with a volt of electricity, cocking the gun. Dean strained to hear signs of things moving in the brush. It was silent for a few minutes before the brothers relaxed again, and Sam realized that question time was over. _He really doesn't know…_This was a whole new way to jump into things headfirst. _Gambling with our lives. If we really don't know what's going on, how are we supposed to stop them?_

"Dean."

"Sammy." Dean's patience was fast running out. He was fully content to clock his brother in the jaw to make him shut it.

"Did you remember to change the bullets in the guns?"

Dean's blood ran cold. "Huh?"

"Some still have rock salt in them from the last gig,"

Dean froze. _Oh please please please…_ He kept his voice calm.

"I thought _you _did that. Back at the CAR."

"I thought you did it," Sam said innocently. Dean could practically see the halo around his brother's head. He wished it would drop around his brother's neck and shake him senseless for a few minutes.

"You stupid fucker," Dean hissed. "We have to go _all the way_ back to the car now,"

"Okay, look. It's like a hundred feet from here, back behind those trees, right?" Sam motioned behind him, in the general direction of the entrance to the woods. "I'll go. And I can keep one of our zillion knives with me, it'll be fine. I can put the guns in the bag, and you keep the .99. It already has silver bullets,"

"Yeah, 'cause I loaded them myself, dipshit. And it's more like a thousand feet, remember? I moved the car so it wouldn't get fucked up," Dean's fury was not quelled with this. He clenched his teeth, hating the thought of his kid brother out there, by himself, unprotected. _All we need now is a freaking natural disaster and we're good. Winchester luck, folks, it never lets you down, _Dean stated in his head.

"Dude. There's WEREWOLVES out there, in case you forgot. They might enjoy a tasty little Sammy sampler, and I don't know if you want to lose a limb tonight…"

"Not over there, there aren't. The werewolves are in the woods. _That_—" a gesture behind him "-is _not_ the woods,"

"Yeah, great observation, Sherlock," Dean smart-assed distantly, peering back behind them. _We need those bullets, dammit!_

Dean went through his options. _Choice A- Let Sam go by himself, and risk the stupid ass accidentally harming himself or the car, or run into an angry werewolf or two. Then again, it's not that far to the Impala, and it's doubtful they'll venture that far out of the woods…_

_Choice B- I go and leave him to save Dad's ass and kill a pack of werewolves with _one _handgun and two clips of silver bullets…_

"Okay, as long as you hurry up and be quiet. You don't have any funny feelings about this, do you?" Dean glanced hastily into his brother's face.

Sam grinned. "Do ya think I would have suggested this if I knew what the outcome would be?"

Dean stared at him. "Dude. That made absolutely no sense,"

Sam shrugged off Dean's look. "Whatever,"

Dean tossed him the car keys, trying to keep things quiet. "The bullets are in the trunk,"

"I _know_, in the bag."

Dean tried not to let on how worried he was as he watched Sam's figure recede into the darkness. He couldn't see him past the large oak tree, so he stopped looking and turned around. _Shit, Sammy doesn't even have a cell to call me if he needs something…why hasn't Dad gotten him one yet?_

Now, Dean was alone.

_What makes me think Dad needs our help? What if he was telling the truth, and he isn't badly hurt? What if we just get in the way? _Came the unbidden thoughts. Dean hated being alone in the woods; all silent, like…_death._

_I trust Sammy's judgement. _

_What if something happens to Sam? _

"It won't," Dean said out loud, clapping a hand over his mouth when he realized his error. _Sammy knew that nothing would go wrong…but he's only thirteen. Shit._

He rested his forehead on the smooth rock in front of him, crouching on the balls of his feet. He felt burdened with care, responsibility, that he didn't want.

It was then that he heard rustling in the trees directly in front of him—coming from the opposite direction of where Sam had gone.

_Shit, Sammy. _Dean panicked slightly, not feeling ready. _Where's my backup when I need it?_ Yet he hoped against hope that Sam would stay gone until the threat was past—Sam had no idea how dangerous a tussle with werewolves could be. _Stupid full moon. Or whatever the fuck is going on here. _Dean felt real resentment for not getting the entire story from his dad beforehand. _We're going about this entire thing in the dark._

_Don't get in the way, little bro_. Dean prayed with every fiber of his soul. He took careful aim with the revolver, grateful there was a full clip loaded in it, and an extra one right beside him.

The rustling and stopped, and the entire forest was even more unnaturally silent than before. _If that's possible. _The entire setup was creeping Dean out. _Since when do werewolves sneak around like this? I'm one to talk…I've heard about, what? Two werewolf cases?_

Dean waited, watching with eagle eyes at the place where the rustling had come from.

_Come on come on come on…_

Dean's breathing steadied as his finger tensed on the trigger. He did what their father had taught him; put everything out of your mind except for the battle ahead.

Dean forgot about his dad, lost his worry for Sam, and focused his pent-up energy on the thing in the woods. He thought he sighted a pair of glowing eyes in the green shrubbery, and aimed, only to have his concentration interrupted by a familiar sound that sent his heart leaping.

It was Sam's yell.

"DEAN!"

Dean broke his focus, spinning wildly in place.

"SAMMY!" _Shit! I shouldn't have let him go, even when he said nothing would happen…goddamn it! Why didn't we teach him how to deal with werewolves before?_

Dean knew the answer to his posed mental questions. _Dad was going to teach him about werewolves after this gig…he was waiting until he was old enough…_

Dean was trying to get a handle on his brother's location, as being on the edge of a forest caused a dull, dislocating echo to follow him. The gun dangled, forgotten, in his right hand. He tried to listen for any other sounds, but for some reason, there was no noise at all.

"SAMMY?" Dean shouted once more. He was sure it was just something else he heard—_Sam's not in trouble_.

But in response to his apprehension, he heard yells he knew too well.

He barely thought about it, before standing up from his position and running full speed back in the direction the brothers came, his stomach churning in fear of what he might find.

He never even saw the werewolf move to the edge of the trees behind him, before latching its claws into Dean's back in a horrifyingly graceful jump.

**Hee hee...review! Review!**


	5. Weapons and Jackets

**Wow, I love all you reviewers! Such nice people! Well, here's the next chapter—I hope it meets expectations, because I totally know where I'm going with this now. It was one of those epiphanies when my muse went "Oh, I get it!". And I was happy.**

**-grin-**

**Okay, so all the disclaimers and stuff still apply, and if you don't like violence, I don't know if you'll have a problem with this chapter or not, because I don't think I wrote in toooooo much gory details. But you gotta love hurt!Dean and hurt!Sam, so yeah. Here ya go! **

**Please leave a review on the way out! Thanks! **

**Love from the fairytalemanipulator**

**Chapter Five: Weapons and Jackets**

_Previously, in Chapter Four…_

_He barely thought about it, before standing up from his position and running full speed back in the direction the brothers came, his stomach churning in fear of what he might find. _

_He never even saw the werewolf move to the edge of the trees behind him, before latching its claws into Dean's back in a horrifyingly graceful jump._

------

The first thing Dean felt was the pain. A searing, sharp pain that felt like frostbite and fire at the same time. Yet, he knew that feeling all too well.

_Claws._

Sammy's yells were still fresh in his mind as he shouted back. "I'm coming, Sam!" But he was pinned, fighting the creature that was snarling on his back. _So heavy. _It took all of his strength to ignore the blood pouring down the sides of his body, as he rolled over, trying to dislodge the enormous, heavy creature.

"Oh, shit," Dean groaned, feeling his flesh ripping. He could tell the werewolf was losing its patience. He didn't need to see it to know that he was in trouble if he didn't figure out a way to stop it.

A sudden thought dawned on him. _The knife_. In his back pocket. The gun, he had lost somewhere back near the rocks. But the knife… his mind was moving amazingly slow, as he contemplated the position in which he could thrust the knife. He was growing numb and cold, which could not be a good sign. So he hatched a plan, that he prayed would work.

He twisted on the ground, managing to grasp the hilt of the dagger in his right hand before he felt claws ripping away at the hand. Not even feeling the pain, he thrust the knife upward, blood from his hand mingling with the blood coming out of the creature from the stab wound. Its howl clearly meant the dagger had found its mark, as Dean was quickly released from the grasp of death.

_Weird, _Dean thought hazily, struggling to stay conscious. _That was just…weird._

The teen barely had a second to think before he stumbled to his feet, scanning his surroundings for the monster. For the moment, it seemed to have retreated. _Never a good sign. If it's hurt, it's only more pissed off now._ Dean couldn't help but think what the werewolf had wanted. _If it wanted to kill me, it could have done so. But it was biding it's time. What the hell?_

Suddenly, his mind flashed. _Sammy._ And Dean broke into a painful gallop, running towards the direction he remembered parking the car. The cries were silenced now, and he heard nothing once again. _What the fuck is going on?_ He was having a hard time staying upright, and stumbled more than once. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of his family in danger. Dean groaned as he fell on the hard-packed earth forest floor, feeling the injuries on his back stretch. The dried blood from the back of his shirt was making him stiff and causing even more discomfort than he had felt before.

_Sammy._

"Sam?" Dean's voice was hoarse, and he licked his lips before trying again. He had somehow managed to keep a hold on the knife, and now held it aloft, as if a beacon to lead him to his brother.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted once more, hoping to hear an answering yell. What he heard next made his blood chill.

A soft howl came from out of the woods, a low, guttural sound that made the teenager swallow his breath in a gulp. Dean was in no shape to fight off any more wolves. _Shit. _He remembered now that his gun with the silver bullets was still where he had dropped it near the boulders. _Stupid!_ His mind was clearing quickly as his body grew number, preparing for battle. He knew that he could withstand the pain…if only he could find his brother. _Not to mention Dad._

"Dean…" Dean heard a soft whisper carry in the sudden breeze.

"Sammy?" Dean rounded the edge of the trees, skirting the bushes in haste. He saw the car, and spotted the open trunk in the back. Seeing the keys on the ground next to the vehicle, Dean approached carefully.

"Sammy!" The young boy was lying in a pool of his own blood, behind the trunk. The duffel bag was open beside him, and Dean couldn't see any silver bullets or weapons. _Oh shit, Sammy…_

Dean kneeled next to his brother, grunting in his own pain as he looked into Sam's glazed eyes. "Oh, Sammy," Dean murmured, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "What did they do to you…"

" 'M a'right, don't worry," came the pained reply. Dean ran his eyes down his brother's body, as Sam turned his head away from Dean, wincing.

"Sammy, I'm gonna have to turn you over, check for wounds, okay? It's gonna hurt," Dean's pain was forgotten as he took care of his brother. _That's a lot of blood he lost_. "Do you remember what happened?" During this conversation, Dean was keeping an eye on his surroundings, watching warily for any werewolves that might try to surprise them again.

"There were two of 'em," came Sam's distant reply. Dean pushed gently on Sam's shoulder, making him turn his body around. He inhaled sharply as Sam cried out in pain, seeing the cuts and deep marks on his brother's back which were very similar to his own, except more severe.

"Here, Sammy," Dean took his knife and cut away the back of Sam's shirt, trying to get a closer look at his injuries. _Jesus Christ_. They would all need stitches. _Oh my God._ He had never seen wounds this severe on his brother before, and it was hurting him to the core. He turned his head to that Sam wouldn't see the sudden tears in his eyes. _I shouldn't have let him go._

"Dean," Sam turned slightly, seeing his brother with his fist in his mouth. "Dean, it's not your fault,"

Dean didn't respond. He took his already ripped to shreds jacket and wiped away the blood from Sam's back, trying not to make it hurt worse than it already was.

"Do you know how long you were out for?"

"No, but I'm okay…"

Dean was wearing two layers, and he took off the outer shirt and handed it to Sam.

"Put this on, and we'll stitch you up later, okay?" His voice was gruff, and Sam knew how worried he actually was. Sam tried not to let on how painful it was to shrug on the oversize shirt, which dangled loosely around the arms.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah…" Dean extended a hand to his brother, and Sam couldn't ignore the look of pain that crossed Dean's face as he stood himself. It was then that Sam noticed the crusted blood on the shirt he wore.

"Dean, what happened to you?"

"From the look of things, the same thing that happened to you. Only mine was a little nicer, and I only had _one _bad boy,"

Sam ignored the humor that Dean was trying to infuse in the situation. "Dean, they took the weapons,"

"What about…"

"No, I mean they took all of them. The bullets, the guns, everything," Sam's eyes were large as he waited for his brother's reaction. Dean groaned and rubbed his face with his uninjured hand.

"What are we gonna do, Dean?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Okay, they obviously don't want us here. But they could have killed us, and they didn't. And I don't get that. But I still have my gun and the knife, and I have a spare gun in the glove compartment," Dean crossed over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, leaning in to get the gun. Sam got a full view of Dean's mutilated back, and had to lean against the car until his nausea passed.

"Okay, this doesn't have silver bullets, but it'll still hurt 'em," Dean slammed the door, pushing the gun into his brother's hand as he strode over. "You said there were two of them?"

"Yeah. They were huge. I never saw pictures of werewolves that big. One of them just took our gear and ran off, and I was getting ready to chase after it when the other one jumped on me,"

"You were getting ready to chase after it? What are you, James Bond without an arsenal?"

Sam ignored his brother. "Where the heck is Dad?"

Dean stared for a second. _Crap, I totally forgot_. "How are we supposed to save his ass if this is all we got?"

Sam was surprised that Dean, for once, was treating him as an equal. _Not a little brother. But someone capable_.

Dean didn't wait for an answer to his question. He started off, back towards the boulders in the clearing. Sam supposed he was heading back to retrieve the dropped gun, and he watched as his brother slowed down to wait for him. Catching up to Dean, Sam panted from the slight exertion. They were both jumpy, nervous—they knew they couldn't afford any more mistakes.

Stopping at a particularly pointy rock, Dean bend to grab the silver weapon he had previously dropped with a grunt. He checked the clip, and picked up the extra one that had been lying beside it. Tucking it into his pants, he let out a low whistle.

"Man, we could have really fucked up there,"

_Great observation, _Sam thought sourly. His back was itching and throbbing—an altogether unpleasant feeling. "I don't think we should do this tonight, Dean. Maybe we should just find Dad and get out, because without any weapons…"

"We have weapons," was Dean's blunt reply. "Two guns and a knife. And Dad'll have more. We can't just wait for them to hurt more people, Sam,"

"But that's the thing, Dean," Sam puzzled, drawing his eyebrows together in thought. "If the werewolves already killed like seven people, then why didn't they kill us? Unless they only feed out of necessity or something like that—"

"Which I find very hard to believe, dude. I think something weird's going on here, and the sooner we kill the sons of bitches, the sooner the entire thing's over, okay?" Leaving no room for argument, Dean stared his brother down. Sam sighed and looked away. _Sometimes there's just no reasoning with him. He's like…he's like Dad._

"So what's the plan now, jerk?" Sam questioned, the gun feeling heavy in his hand. _I hate guns._

"I dunno, bitch, why don't you give me three seconds to think?"

"Didn't know that was possible," Sam muttered, catching a dirty look but nothing else from Dean. They both unconsciously leaned forward against the boulders, still alert but relaxing in the moment.

"I can practically smell the burning from your brain, Dean,"

There was no response, and Sam looked over to see Dean staring at something that the young Winchester wasn't seeing.

"Sammy?" breathed Dean, barely moving his lips. Sam immediately got in closer to his brother, trying to see what he was looking at in the trees and brush.

"What is it?"

"What color is Dad's jacket?"

_What kind of a question is that? _"Dark green, right? Why?"

The silence was broken by a rustle as Dean straightened his back and quickly strode into the trees, gun held in front of him.

"Dean!" Sam moved forward automatically, only to be given a warning look from his older brother.

"_Stay right there, _Sammy, I'll be right back," and Dean was swallowed up into the dark, leaving a very shallow-breathing Sam behind. Sam could see the faint beam from the tiny flashlight that Dean carried in his jeans at all times. It was bobbing through the mouth of the forest at a slower pace than Sam would have expected. _Combination of injury plus tiny flashlight, which isn't that great for dark forests with evil lurking in the underbrush. Not a good grouping there._

The sound of boots tramping through dead leaves stopped, and Sam shivered in the unexpected cold breeze that raised goose pimples on his skin. His body ached from the gashes across his back, and he knew that neither he nor Dean could fight off a pack of werewolves at this moment. _Where is Dean?_ The sounds of the forest had gone completely silent once again—it was as if the woods had swallowed the older brother whole.

"Dean?" Sam's hesitant whisper echoed in the gloomy clearing. He dared to take a step around the boulders, peering with his not-so-good night vision into the deep recesses of the forest. He heard a noise and swallowed quickly. He raised the gun up to the level of his face, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was…

As the figure grew clear, Sam relaxed and loosened his hold on the weapon. Dean approached the rocks, his steps slower than before. He was walking without making noise, a character trait that Sam had yet to develop. Dean had clicked off his flashlight in hopes of saving the battery, which he knew they would need at some point tonight.

"What is that?" Sam peered at the object Dean was holding in his bloody, clawed hand. It looked like…_oh God._

"It's Dad's jacket," Dean's voice was monotonous as he held the material aloft. Neither brother spoke for a minute. Then Sam broke the silence, his voice wobbling.

"Do you think," he asked with a quaver in his tone. "That he left it behind on purpose? Maybe for us to track?"

Mutely, Dean held the jacket up higher so it caught the scant moonlight that happened to be hidden behind layers of clouds tonight.

Sam let out an audible gasp that ended in a choked sob. The jacket was mutilated the same way that the boys' backs were—except, the only whole entity to the clothing was the right arm. The rest of it was shredded, and in the light, Sam could see glistening, crusted blood on the jacket.

"I think…" Dean whispered, his voice not carrying far. "I think that Dad knows what's going on here more than we do. And the werewolves didn't like it very much,"

As if on cue, the low cry of a werewolf on the prowl reached the ears of the Winchester brothers. Sam swallowed his tears, leaving a large lump in his throat, while Dean kept his face out of the light so Sam wouldn't see the turbulent emotions written all over him.

"What…whaddya we do now?" Sam queried his older brother, needing reassurance.

But there was none to be given. Because Dean was as lost as his brother.

**Oooh- please review! Hee hee! It's getting better…**


	6. A Helping Hand

**A/N: Hello, dear friends! I was a little hesitant to go this way with this chapter. This entire story is going in a different direction than I had planned, but hopefully for the better. THIS IS A REALLY LONG CHAPTER AGAIN. SORRY!**

**-If you don't like graphic stuff, this probably isn't for you. The real nastiness isn't here yet, but we're getting up there. **

**-I love my reviewers! Keep 'em coming! If I had time I would personally respond to each and every one of you, but know that I read every single one of your reviews and I give you air-hugs for them!**

**Here you are, hope you like!**

**Chapter Six: A Helping Hand**

"Dean!" Sam hissed, clawing his way through an especially unruly grove of prickly leaves. "Dean, slow _down,_" A branch was snapped backwards into his face, and Sam's nose barely missed pulverization-by-leaf.

Sam sighed, following his brother through thicket after thicket of brambly woods. He knew that Dean was hurt worse than him, and it worried him that his brother would rather pass out from exhaustion than take a five-minute break.

"Sam, do you want to find Dad before a werewolf eats him or not?" Dean's voice rang hollow through the dense pocket of trees they were now encroaching. Sam knew that Dean's crude humor was by no means meant to be cruel. _He's more concerned than he'll let on._

It had been almost two hours since they had last heard the cry of the werewolf, and it was making Dean wary. He knew he was taking a chance by drawing them out, but he saw no other option to finding their father. They had tried his cell again, but it rang without luck.

_Then, _Sam thought tiredly, _Dean came up with the brilliant plan of scouting the woods. For what? Who knows. _Maybe they were looking for werewolves. Maybe they were looking for Dad. Dean either didn't come up with the rest of his plan, or there was some hidden logic in thrashing about aimlessly in the park's forest. _Yeah, right_.

"We've been here before," Sam rested his forehead against the bark of a tree in front of him, trying to catch his breath. "We're going in circles, Dean,"

Dean spun around, wincing at the sudden pain in his back. _Wonder how Sam feels about dried blood sticking your shirt to the rest of your body._ Sam had fashioned a makeshift bandage from their father's ruined jacket to stop the bleeding on Dean's hand, and he didn't give it a second thought. With a gun tucked securely into the waistband of his jeans and a knife grasped tightly in his bandaged, bloody hand, Dean looked the part of the tragic hero.

For once, Dean had no response to his brother. He dropped to the ground, gingerly resting his back against the smooth bark of a pretty, flowering tree. Sam followed suit, facing away from Dean. He lay his head on his knees, arms wrapped securely around his legs.

"We're never gonna find him."

"Come on, Sammy, the forest isn't that big," Dean replied bracingly. He would never tell that he was thinking the exact same thing.

"If anything, the werewolves'll find us first,"

"Not if we catch 'em beforehand,"  
"Dean, they already know we're here,"

"Yeah, but they don't know where,"

"Wasn't that part of your plan? To make noise or something so they would attack and we would be ready?"

"It _was_," Dean gave no more than that. _It would have been a good idea, _Dean thought, his mind succumbing to his pain. _If only we weren't so god damned tired._

"So you mean to tell me," Sam's voice rose as his anger mounted. "That we've been trekking the woods for no reason at all?"

"How the hell else are we supposed to find Dad if we don't look for him!" Dean shouted these words at his brother's back, rising suddenly. "You just expect him to appear? Or maybe the werewolves'll drop off a nice Dad package for us, whole and complete! Is that what you think? Snap out of it, this isn't something that you can fix by reading a damn book and knowing what's in it! Nothing's gonna help us now but our _experience, _Sammy! And that means looking for Dad, because he's not just gonna drop out of the sky because we want him to!"

Sam had turned completely around, his mouth hanging open. He wasn't sure if he followed his brother's logic, but he knew there was a point to it.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

"No," came the very unconvincing response from the oldest Winchester. His face was a pinkish hue. "I'm just freaking out a little, okay?"

"Okay," Sam said softly, watching Dean carefully. _We have to find Dad, _Sam thought.

_We don't even know if he's alive,_ came an unwelcome thought. _We're putting ourselves in danger without even knowing the circumstances. _Something inside Sam still hoped that there would be a completely rational explanation for all of this. _Maybe the werewolves don't have Dad. Maybe they don't even know he's here. Maybe he just tore his jacket…_

_Shut up. That's never the way it is._

All of a sudden, Sam froze. He knew very clearly what would happen next, and he opened his mouth to warn Dean. But before he knew it, Dean was on his feet, gun pointing towards the monstrously large creature that had just emerged, snarling, from the deep underbrush. _We didn't even hear it coming. _

_Jesus Christ, _Dean thought subconsciously. _That has to be the biggest motherfucker I have ever seen._

The werewolf was at least ten feet tall, with limbs as large as the tree trunks beside it. Sam scrambled to his feet, fingers grasping at the revolver in his back pocket. His hands shook as he aimed, not knowing what good the regular bullets would do against the silently moving giant.

"Sammy," Dean whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Sammy, don't move,"

_Duh,_ Sam thought.

The werewolf grunted. It sniffed the air, dropping onto all fours. Every fiber in Dean's body screamed _Shoot the bitch already! _but for some reason, his finger remained loose on the trigger. He felt that by killing this creature, he would lose any connection to finding out what happened to their father. Dean spotted the matted, bloody fur on the haunch of the werewolf. It looked as if it had already fought with something, but Dean and Sam knew that this wasn't one of the werewolves that attacked them.

It was then that the thing most unexpected occurred. Right in front of their eyes, the werewolf twitched, falling onto the ground. It whimpered a silent whimper, its fur already growing back into its skin. Slowly but steadily, long, pointed ears were replaced with human ears, and claws and paws turned into hands and feet. The creature shuddered, all of a sudden not a creature anymore. It was a human. The person was shrouded in darkness, and the boys couldn't get a good look at it.

_Holy…_was all Dean could come up with. With a glance at Sam, he began edging forward, ignoring his brother's frantic gestures to stand down.

Without warning, the person struggled to his feet, completely naked. It was then that the moonlight hit the human, and Dean took a step back in shock. It wasn't a he. _It's a she._

She looked no more than twenty five years of age, with luminous white skin and dark black hair that seemed to conduct electricity on its own. Her eyes were wide in pain and fear, and she clutched the gash running along her side. She had no modesty in covering herself, and her eyes landed on Dean, who instantly raised the gun at her face.

Without delay, the girl lifted her hands above her head. "I want to help you," she rasped in a voice of dangerous innocence. "I am too weak to fight. I know what happened to your father,"

Sam was hearing this all through a daze. Never before had he heard of a werewolf mutating out of want.

"How…how did you do that?" He stuttered out. The she-wolf turned her eyes onto him, and he felt her laser eyes pierce his chest.

"We are a very powerful group. That was the last of my strength, as I am no longer welcomed as one of them,"

She put her hands down to her side, wincing at the injury running the length of her body. It hadn't been visible in her other form as being so extensive. Dean's eyes widened at the sight of her blood. It was lustrous silver, flowing like teardrops out of her body.

"Your father injured Yaswan. He is our leader, and without him, there is no one to take over the pack,"

"Why are you telling us this?" Dean practically spat at her. "You're one of them!"

"But I'm the only one who didn't want to be." Her sad gaze locked with Dean's ferocious one. "And now, it is the end of my life. I know it, I can feel it. And I can redeem myself by helping you,"

"Why should we trust you?" Unknowingly, Dean had moved in front of his brother. The girl noticed this as well.

"I have no wish to harm the little one, or yourself for that matter. You are stronger than me, as I am drawing my last breaths,"

"Where's our father?" Dean barked, knowing he should not be taking the advice of this woman-creature. _She talks like Yoda, man. This is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me, bar none._

"All I know is that he injured Yaswan. The group grew restless, and we can't kill or feed without Yaswan taking the first bite; it's a rule. So we settled on maiming the innocents that roamed the woods. It gave the others satisfaction, but I am the one with a little bit of human still in her. That is why they shot me, with one of your stolen weapons. Because I objected to their decisions,"

She took a breath and continued, her face pearly-white in the glow of the moon.

"Your father was hunting for Yaswan because he knew that once he died, the rest of us would die too. Our powers are all bound together, and if the leader perishes, the pack will follow. We are starving, as we have not fed in a while. If you father falls victim to my kinsmen, he will be consumed first by Yaswan, then rationed out to the others."

Dean swallowed, a lump growing in his throat. He pictured his father being devoured by these monsters. _No way._ His hand shook imperceptibly on the gun. _No freaking way._

"How do you know he's our father? Why are you so different from other werewolves? Where did you get your power?" Sam darted questions at her, watching the girl drop to her knees in pain. His face constricted along with hers.

_We can't do anything for her, Sammy, _Dean sent a mental message to his brother. _It's her time to go._

She smiled a gentle, sorrowful smile, her hair lifting off her back in the breeze.

"I cannot answer many of those questions. We are a mystical group, and I do not know all the answers myself. All I know is that they know you're here, and they are looking for your father as well. They do not want to die, so they _will_ kill your father and bring him to Yaswan to renew his energy. You must hurry. You do not have much time. I cannot help you more. Stay out of danger, and save your father. Otherwise, the natural order will be upset—as our breed takes over. There is no hope without you, and your father needs your help. Good luck, children of the earth. I return to where from I came,"

Dean and Sam lowered their guns simultaneously as the breeze picked up around them. The girl bowed her head, raven colored hair whipping about her face. Her naked body shone with a luminescence that Dean knew he would not forget. As her silvery blood dried, she let out a pitiful howl and in an instant, dissolved into powdery silver ashes.

Sam's mouth was open. He stared at the spot where the werewolf had been.

_Guess the books don't know everything after all_.

Dean had never, in his many years of hunting, seen something so utterly frightening yet maddeningly beautiful. She was a curse, a blemish; yet she cleansed herself in the end. _Can we trust her?_ Dean couldn't figure that one out. Her story made sense; it explained why the weapons were stolen, and why they weren't killed by the wolves already. _Because they just want to kill Dad. Oh, shit._

Sam's mouth moved wordlessly for a second before audible sounds actually emerged.

"Whaa…"

"Yeah," Dean remarked, squatting down next to the silvery ashes. "I really don't have anything to say…"

"What did she mean—her breed would take over?"

"It means," Dean paused to gingerly prod the ashes, only stopping at Sam's grunt of protest. "It means that the fate of humanity rests in our hands. Basically," Dean tried to shoot a trademark grin at his brother, but found that it fell somewhat short.

"What?" Sam gasped, coughing as spittle caught in his throat.

"You saw how powerful these werewolves can be. They're not normal werewolves; they're evolved. If we don't stop them they can destroy humans, if all of them are as powerful or more powerful than _that_ werewolf. And we're wasting time here. Unless you want your kids to be were-babies, we're gonna kill this Yaswan dude," _Hopefully, before the werewolves find Dad._

"Do you trust her?"

Dean thought for a moment. "She was dying; there was no reason for her not to tell the truth,"

"This is way more than I bargained for. I just thought that we would have to drag a stubborn Dad out of here!" _Didn't think we would have to save the day._

"It's up to us, Sammy," Dean walked over to his brother, the gun staying in his hand. "You ready to do this?"

"Can you really be ready for this, Dean?"

"Nope," Dean said cockily, throwing his head up to the sky. He tried not to belie his feelings of insanity at the moment. _Taking on a pack of werewolves with two fucking clips of silver bullets. Oh, by the way, according to the now-vaporized werewolf chick, they're all magical in some way. That just makes everything better, doesn't it._ "And we don't even have a plan. But we're gonna blow these bitches outta their comfort zone. We have a slight advantage, because I get the feeling that they don't think we're a threat,"

"Dean, they attacked us. Why would they do that if we weren't a threat?" Sam said bluntly. Dean turned sharp eyes on his brother.

"Duh, dipshit, their leader's hurt and they don't know what else to do. Confused werewolves are more dangerous than the regulars. Can you believe they shot one of their own?" Dean shook his head. _It's a lot to take in, especially in five minutes_.

"There's regulars?" Sam suppressed a grin at the look on Dean's face, knowing that his brother was trying to be serious. Dean would never let on that he was shaken by the werewolf's—_girl's_—knowledge and demise, but Sam knew. Sam always knew.

"They have our weapons. We have two clips of silver bullets, a knife, and regular bullets. Against a freaking pack of _werewolves. _You know, one bite and you start growing hair in places you never had before?" No matter how hard he tried, Sam found it hard to believe that they could defeat this.

_Where did he learn to be this sarcastic?_ Dean pondered.

"Maybe growing that hair in those places would be good for you, Sammy," Dean snarked right back at his brother.

Sam _harrumphed_ in reply, shuffling his feet.

"So what next?"

"What do you think?"

Sam sighed for the millionth time. "Right, sorry, I forgot your master plan. We surprise the werewolves with our crazy kung-fu abilities, hopefully before they get to Dad, and annihilate the entire magical clan, whom did I mention have superpowers? Oh, and if they _do _have Dad, we have to save him as well as our own asses,"

"But we have something else that they don't have," Dean bent down to tie his shoelace as he said these words to his brother.

"What's that," Sam stated in a bored manner, expecting something along the lines of_ Dean the Great_.

"Each other." Dean said this without a smirk on his face, standing suddenly and studying his brother. _He looks like Dad. _

Sam smiled a little, taken aback. He knew just what his brother wanted to say. "I love you too, Dean,"

"Hot damn! It's not like we're on our deathbeds! Now, come on. I have a feeling that if we follow that were-chick's trail, we'll find our 'wolves," Dean brushed off the gravity of the situation, knowing full well exactly what could happen. _No plan, no gear, no idea just how powerful these werewolves are. No Dad._

_But we still have a fighting chance._

Sam hurried his pace to match his brother's as they crossed into the thicket from which the girl werewolf had emerged. _If that was the size of the girl, wonder what the leader looks like_.

"So why weren't the werewolves that attacked us that big?" Sam piped up from Dean's side as he stopped by entrance to the next patch of woods. Dean gritted his teeth as he bent to once again, tie his untied shoelace. _Damn, werewolf claws hurt. Especially on the back._

"I don't know. Maybe they had been starving for a long time. Maybe they were the runts of the pack. Maybe they were kids. Maybe the woman that went _poof _in front of us was just abnormally large. Maybe…"

"Okay, okay," Sam stopped Dean's tirade, waiting patiently by his side while his brother tore maniacally at the stubborn shoelace, pistol by his side.

"Alright," Dean grunted, slowly and painfully straightening his back. "Sammy, no matter what, stay behind me, okay? You need to keep an eye out for Dad,"

"Dean, stop trying to protect me,"

"I'm not!" Dean acted insulted. "It's just that…uh…"

"I get it," Sam hid his smile with his shirt sleeve as Dean's cheeks darkened.

"Good."

The duo proceeded in silence, their footfalls making only a slight noise on the soft, dead leaves beneath their feet.

_Time's running out, _Dean thought worriedly, sticking his gun in his jeans pocket and replacing it with his knife. He studied the rusty-looking, bloodied edge. He hadn't noticed before, but the blood on the blade was silver. _How come we didn't know they don't bleed red?_ Grimly, he hacked away with his knife at a wayward branch, clearing the way for his brother behind him.

_We don't know a lot of things. _

_Our entire family's in danger. _

_We're in over our heads here, and there's nothing we can do to remedy that. _

**Oh my, I wonder what'll happen next! I'm ducking rotten vegetables from my disappointed fans…namely, my chihuahua. Tell me what you think- please review!**

**Next chapter on it's way!**


	7. Enemy Territory

**A/N: Wow! Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. I hope this is satisfactory, and you know you MUST leave a review on the way out to tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N 2: It's almost done now, I promise, hehe! Mwah!**

**Chapter Seven: Enemy Territory**

………………………………………………………………………

_I wonder how long it'll take before we collapse, _ Dean thought, not so much pessimist as curious. He waited with barely concealed impatience for Sam to catch up. He took in his brother's pale, moon-like face with concern, noting the fog that seemed to have fallen over his eyes.

"You okay there, kiddo?" Dean barked, pushing his way through another cluster of trees. They'd been walking for an hour following the faded footprints and signs of the were-woman.

"We almost there?" Sam panted, altogether out of breath. He was finding it hard to focus, and more than once found himself wondering what he was doing with a gun in his hand.

"Dunno." Dean was brusque, trying to focus more on the job ahead than on their quickly tiring muscles. _Wonder how much blood we lost. I hope Sam can wait to pass out until after we kick those werewolves' hairy asses._

Dean found it hard to bring humor into this situation. Maybe it was his protesting limbs, or maybe his confidence was just giving out. _They could have had second helpings of Daddy Winchester by now._

"God DAMN it!" Dean shouted, kicking out at a tree stump in anger.

"Motherfucker!"

Sam jumped back, his senses assaulted by the unexpected onslaught from his usually "chill" brother. He had never seen Dean give away his emotions so blatantly before.

"Dean…" he said timidly, wondering if maybe there was something on the ground ahead of Dean that he hadn't seen yet. _Or maybe he just stubbed his toe._

Dean turned around, running his hands through his hair in an expression of obvious frustration.

"We're running out of time!"

Sam had no good response to this. "I'm sorry I'm slowing you down…"

"No, you idiot, it's not you! Not everything is about you! It's Dad!"

Sam looked puzzled. "It's Dad's fault?"

"I just don't know anymore," Dean sat on the tree stump, looking distraught. "We're wasting time sitting here talking about this shit when who knows what could be happening to Dad now?"

"He can take care of himself until we get there, Dean, they might not even have him yet," Sam wasn't sure if he believed his own words, but needed Dean to believe. _For both their sakes._

It was then that Dean spotted something that made his heart race. _What luck. _

"Sammy. Check it out." Dean pointed behind Sam, into a large bush covering the floor of the forest. In it, Sam could see a distinct shimmer.

Dean stood up, walking around his brother. Bending down, he cautiously prodded the thing underneath the leaves.

"I don't think it's gonna bite, Dean," Sam chuckled as Dean sent a nasty glare his way.

Sam's chuckle turned into a cough as Dean lifted the object from its entangled position. Grimly, he held it up for a better view.

"It's Dad's cell," Dean shook his head. _Another clue. This mean we're getting closer or something?_

"How—how do you know it's Dad's?" Sam stuttered. "It could be anyone's, I mean, this used to be a popular hiking place…"

Dean flipped out his own cellphone, and pressed speed dial number one. The partially destroyed cell phone emitted a bleak beep, and Dean shut his phone and examined his father's. It was scratched and damaged and covered with sticky sap, yet there was only a small portion of blood on it. _Well, at least it's not dripping red._

"Does this mean we're getting closer?" Sam queried, asking what Dean had been thinking all along.

"I don't know, Sammy." _I don't know anything._

"Dean,"

"What?" Dean was still examining the phone, as if it would transmit an answer into his head.

"Dean."

"WHAT?" Dean looked up to see his brother looking slightly paler than usual. He looked in the direction Sam was looking.

"Is that werewolf blood?" Sam pointed, already moving towards the location. Dean followed, cellphone still in hand.

"Yeah," Dean eyed the silvery substance coating the trunk of a tree. Turning, Dean ran a glance around the area. And he saw something he had missed before.

"Sam, what do these look like to you?" Dean walked over to a tree across the way and squatted down next to it, pointing at some holes in the bottom of the trunk near the roots.

"Are those—"

"Bullet holes."

"But they don't have to be Dad's."

Carefully, Dean reached into the leaves surrounding the base of the tree and sifted through the mess until he found what he was looking for.

"A silver bullet," Sam's mouth dropped. He eyed his surroundings with the practiced eye of a young hunter. "Dad already had a run-in with the werewolves."

"And it looks like it was right here," Dean finished the thought in his brother's head with a tone of finality. "So we followed the were-chick's trail up to here, and we find Dad's cell, Dad's silver bullets, and blood from a werewolf."

"So he hit his target?"

"Maybe this is where he pissed off the leader dude,"

"And the woman got in the way, so they shot her with Dad's gun,"

The brothers were silent for a moment, contemplating this scenario. _Now I get why the leaves are all over. There was a fight here,_ Dean thought. It all made sense to him, but there was still one question he needed an answer to.

"Where do you think we can find the Yaswan dude? Because I have a feeling that he would know where Dad is,"

"Or, Dad would be looking for him—"

"So either way we'll find Dad there."

Dean lapsed into thought for a minute, as Sam picked his brain for any useless information that would help them here.

"Do you think we could follow the blood trail?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a signature you're-an-idiot look, followed with a sarcastic comment.

"Yeah, because his blood is just lying around for us to follow like freaking breadcrumbs,"

"Well, he was bleeding, wasn't he? And I'm sure that after Dad realized he was out of ammo or outnumbered or whatever, he left. So the werewolves took whatever he left behind, because he was probably in a hurry to get out, and they rushed their leader back to their place to help him because I doubt they were carrying gauze with them,"

Dean massaged his temples. "Hold the phone. How do you know there was more than one werewolf when we found _one _smear of blood?"

"Dad wouldn't make more than one shot for _one _werewolf, would he? He's a good shot, we know that. So he was probably distracted by others,"

_Plausible, _Dean thought. _Actually, highly probable. _"You're freaky, you know that?"

"What?"

"You just pull this shit outta thin air. Nevermind, it's all we got now. So, any ideas on how to find this pack of motherf—"

Dean was interrupted in his soliloquy by a bloodthirsty howl that seemed to come from every direction all at once. Panicking, Sam moved in closer to his brother, holding the gun in front of him. Dean covered Sam's back, moving his own weapon around in the dark as he fumbled his fingers around in his pockets for his flashlight. _Damnit!_

Neither dared to make a sound. _We're in enemy territory,_ Dean thought. One thing he knew for sure is that werewolves were very territorial creatures. _Come on, bitches, let's see what you got._

………………………………………………………………….

Elsewhere, at the very moment that the cry of the wolf was heard, a man stumbled out of the clearing he had been passing through. What was left of his clothing was shredded and crusty with blood, and his face was a mess of bruises and blood. The man was breathing heavily, and with each breath came a rasping sound that most likely meant a punctured lung from broken ribs. His legs were barely supporting his weight and he leaned heavily on the lone rifle that he carried. He knew that he didn't have long to find the leader of the pack and finish him off before the pack found him.

_I hope the boys didn't come after me, _was John Winchester's last hope before he staggered through the woods in the direction the howl came from.

_I hope they're safe._

**Dun dun dun….okay, now you have to review!**


	8. Before The Fight

**Okay, almost done. Please keep reviewing, it's what keeps me going! I love you guys!**

**Chapter Eight: Before The Fight**

…………………..

"This is taking forever," Sam commented quietly. Dean let out a low growl of frustration, so much like a werewolf that Sam raised his gun in alarm.

"Easy on the trigger there, cowboy," Dean snarked.

"What are we waiting for?" The moon was hidden behind clouds, as it had been for the past few minutes. Dean pointed straight up.

"Once we get some moonlight to see by, we'll hit 'em hard and fast,"

They had found the pack, not far from the clearing where the fight between John and the werewolves had occurred. Apparently, Yaswan was getting sicker, so the werewolves were debating what to do. Dean could just make out a hind leg protruding from a bush guarded by two or three werewolves. _Yaswan, _he thought. _What the hell kind of a name is Yaswan?_

From his vantage point, Dean could make out four wolves, but he knew that more could appear within seconds, hearing the call of their fellows in need. Dean was worried, though he'd rather shoot himself than admit it. The plan was for Sam to distract them while Dean put a final bullet in the head of the weakened leader. _So many things that can go wrong. What if this magical werewolf thingy doesn't die? What if it doesn't work?_

If it didn't work out, they would have to resort to Plan B.

_Run like the wind. _

………………….

Dean was getting impatient. The cloud cover still hadn't lifted, and it only made visibility worse that they were in the midst of an overgrown thicket. He shifted restlessly, leaning back against a tree.

"Dean," Sam whispered, eyes widening. He gestured behind him, mouthing words that Dean couldn't make out because of the darkness. _What the hell is he doing?_

Dean turned with narrowed eyes, trying to see past the dark. He flicked his tiny flashlight on.

"Shit," he cursed softly as it emitted a dim glow for a second before fading out.

Dean was almost positive that there was something behind them. But without the moon illuminating shadows, he couldn't be sure. Dean let out an involuntary shudder. _How is it not making any noise?_

It was then that the _thing _shuddered, causing leaves to rustle. Panicked, Sam let out a quivering, "Who's there?"

"Boys?"

"DAD?"

The brothers responded in perfect, stunned unison, only to be shushed by their father.

"They're out there," he whispered hoarsely. Dean could feel him move closer to them.

"Dad…are you…what…"

"Do you have ammo?"

"Sammy has silver bullets, and I just have regular ones…they took the rest of our gear,"

"I figured," John let out a breath in thought. "I have some extra clips in my pocket; here, fix it up," John was grateful for the cover of darkness as he handed off ammunition to his oldest. _Hopefully they can't see the dried blood._

"We're going in when the clouds lift," Dean was all business, while Sam opened his mouth in protest.   
"Maybe we should get Dad back to the car…"

Both older Winchesters stopped and turned towards him. Sam could feel the lasers of their eyes on him.

"I never leave a job undone." John's voice was gravelly, and Sam knew he was hurt. _He thinks that _I _think that he can't handle this…whoa, confusing. _ He closed his mouth, knowing the futility of argument.

Dean switched bullets with minimal noise and practiced military technique. With a twinge of guilt, he wondered whether their father would be an asset or a liability.

_Depends on how badly hurt he is. Not like he'd ever admit it._

John let Dean take charge, trusting his son's rational judgment. _I hope he's right, _John thought as he listened to Dean's carefully whispered plan.

………………

They waited silently, grimly, for the battle they knew they were beginning.

"You ready for a gamble on your life, Sammy?" Dean whispered mischievously, grinning a morbid grin at his younger brother. The grin disappeared when Sam blanched, losing his footing in his squatting position.

"Jeez, Sammy, it was a joke,"

"No, it wasn't!" His brother hissed. John looked up at the sky, pretending not to hear them arguing.

"It's just like any other job, dude, just chill—"

"No it's not!" Sam's eyes were as large as saucer plates in childish fear, and Dean could see them glinting in what little light he had.

"This is, like, DIRECT mortal danger! We're taking on a freaking pack of werewolves! What happens if we get bitten or something?"

John sighed. _Sammy was always the worrier._

"You don't think I'm scared too?" Dean snapped harshly, his voice raising. "I just don't act like a fucking PUSSY about it!"

"ENOUGH." John's voice was quiet, but still boomed over the feuding teens.

"Watch that language."

"Sorry, sir," Dean bit his lip, falling back into taking orders.

"It's almost time. So both of you, calm down,"

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean, grateful he couldn't see the gesture. And on the other side of their father, Dean flipped Sam the bird.

**Review! Next chapter coming up!**


	9. The Battle Part One

**Here it is…this took a long time to get right, and this is still probably my iffiest chapter. I'll update again before the end of the week. All disclaimers still apply…**

**Review at the end, please! Tell me if it went as you thought it would!**

**Love from the fairytalemanipulator…**

**Chapter Nine: The Battle Part One**

………………

"It's time."

The words were spoken so soft and so low that Sam cocked his head at his father. John nodded, gesturing towards the sky. As Sam peered up, he could see clearly the outline of the trees above him.

The moon had come out.

"Lock and load," came the order. There was a simultaneous clicking as each checked his own load of ammunition and guns. Dean took a breath, letting it out along with a prayer.

_Please, keep Sammy safe. Keep us all safe; but just watch out for him, 'kay? He's not that big of a boy yet._

"Dean?"

"Yeah. I'm ready." His mouth set into a grim line as he watched his father handle the rifle. John was favoring his left leg as he moved quietly to the edge of the clearing. _Damn it. Damn it all to hell._

Dean felt the weight of the clips in his pocket, knowing that they were precious commodities and had to be used with discretion. Sam didn't speak, but he seemed to be watching Dean.

For some reason, Dean had a bad feeling about this. He was used to taking risks, but this was bordering on suicide. _Something's going to go wrong. _The morbid thoughts cropped up in his head, and he just couldn't shake them off.

Turning towards his brother, Dean stuck out his tongue childishly, hoping to ease his nerves. Sam grinned, sticking out his own tongue in return. John watched them out of the corner of his eye as they moved closer to him.

_Brothers. What else can you say?_

"Okay, boys. When I say go, we charge in there, because there's no way to handle this quietly. We follow the plan to the tee, you understand? And if anything goes wrong…" John paused, looking his sons in the eyes. "Run."

They nodded, and turned away from their father. John took the moment to look at his boys. _Mary's boys. _His head swam for a second in memories, in fear, in sadness.

John shook it off. _Can't afford weakness_. All of a sudden, he wasn't a father. He was a commander.

"There's one guarding the leader, and two just prowling about. The rest must be out; but they'll be close. Remember- shoot them in the head. It's the only way for sure that they'll go down. And they can pop out of anywhere. So be ready, you hear?"

Dean and Sam nodded soundlessly, fingers poised over triggers. Sam knew that this was a matter of life and death; he would never admit it, but he was glad to finally be a part of something big. _Not like I had a choice, anyways._

It was then that they heard a growl, and a snuffle coming from right ahead of them. John didn't need to say anything for the teens to figure out what happened.

_Shit. They smelled us._

John mouthed words to his sons in the cover of darkness, with the boys leaning in close.

"Wait. Wait for him."

Sam stared straight ahead, watching and waiting, just like John had said. His lips parted in concentration, with his tongue hovering to the corner of his mouth. He was, however, distracted by the pattern of the bark on the trees. _Whoa. That's kinda cool._

_Wow. How much blood did I lose? _Sam shook himself out of his daze, raising his head.

He was paralyzed by fear with what he saw. Instead of tree bark, there were two glowing yellow eyes. Where there should have been pupils, there were glowing red caverns of rage.

"Sam!"

Sam had no idea which one of them shouted his name, as he was temporarily deafened by the sound of the gun in his hand releasing its bullet. It found its mark, in the middle of the massive forehead—and the silver in the bullet apparently worked just fine on these _magical _werewolves.

All three stood, guns aimed in the direction that they expected to see werewolves charging out of. Yet—

"What the fuck?" Dean's voice rang out across the suddenly-empty area. He voiced what the other two had been wondering in milder language.

"_Dean,_" John said distractedly.

"Sorry,"

"What the…" John didn't get to finish his sentence before a blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling.

"Dad! Shit!" Dean turned, landing on his bruised back as he lost his footing across tree roots. The werewolf leered over him, eyes shiny with the malice of a predator.

Dean didn't give it a chance to kill, however, as with one shot to the forehead the werewolf landed right beside him, eyes glazed and wide open.

"Dean," John struggled to his feet, with Sam right beside him. "That was too easy. It's been too easy so far,"

"I know," Dean didn't let his guard down, as he searched the area for more surprises. "Where the hell did they go?"

"They have powers, Dean, powers that they use for their own gain,"

"You mean they can go wherever they want, and do whatever they want…"

"But apparently they die very easily," Sam said thoughtfully, eyeing the body of the werewolf. It still retained its werewolf shape, and Sam was grateful for that. He didn't know if he could handle looking at another dead person. _Helluva day._

"Maybe that's, like, their punishment. For having those 'powers' or whatever," Dean pondered to himself. "Like those banshees up in Harlem. They decided to amplify their own power using a spell, but the catch was that they could be offed a lot easier,"

"Pretty big words there, Dean," Sam snarked, catching a look from his father.

"This isn't the time for that, Sammy. Dean, they couldn't have gone far. We'll split up. You two stick together."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything his father cut in.

"I don't want to hear it, Dean. We'll split up, we'll cover more ground that way,"

_Since when has splitting up ever worked for us?_ Dean thought in frustration, watching his father limp heavily through the undergrowth of the forest.

"Since when has splitting up ever worked for us?" Sam asked Dean quietly, making him jump. He stared at Sam until his brother shifted uncomfortably.

"Come on, stick close," Dean brushed off the worries, concentrating on the path ahead. It was getting increasingly harder to ignore the way his skin stretched across his back, tightened by the drying blood. It was also difficult to see his brother's eyes glazing every few minutes.

"Sammy. Keep going," Dean said lowly to his dawdling brother. He started in response, glancing up with a gaze of confusion.

Dean sighed as he waited for Sam to catch up. _Whose bright idea was this? Oh yeah. _

_Mine._

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	10. Ch 10 and 11: The Battle Part Two

**Whew! What a whirlwind summer! Alrighty then, here's the next installment…**

**If you don't review, I might cry.**

**Cheers!**

**Chapter 10- The Battle Part Two**

"Fucking HELL! Sammy, it's right behind you!"

"Dean! There's two of them, over there!"

"Behind the bush, dude! Cover me!"

Gunshots blasted through dense forest, scattering leaves and startling the silence with abusive noise.

"Where the hell is Dad?"

"He said split up, remember, genius?" Dean yelled at his brother, ducking as the werewolf in front of him heaved half a tree at his head.

"Do you think he's in trouble?" Sam shouted over his shoulder while he shot at a glimpse of furry tail.

"I think we're about to become side dishes if you don't SHUT UP AND FIGHT!"

Dean shot the werewolf through the forehead first chance he got. "Nice, if I may say so myself," he smirked to himself. His grin was quickly replaced by a mask of horror as he caught sight of his brother.

"SAMMY!" Dean darted over to the ongoing battle, which Sam was obviously losing. He wrenched his brother out of the werewolf's vicelike grip, his heart palpitating in horror.

"Dean, there's too many!" Sam wheezed into his brother's chest. Dean held up his gun, daring the werewolf to step closer. He took careful aim at his head with one hand, the other still holding his brother. Before he could let off a shot, the werewolf spun around and took off down the bullet-blasted path.

"Damn it," Dean muttered to himself, loosening himself from his brother's hold. The forest was once again silent, but Dean wasn't fooled in the least. He knew there were at least fifteen werewolves lying in ambush along the forest.

"Sam, duck!" Dean pushed his brother to the ground, covering his body with his own. He felt the rustle of the leaves as a very determined werewolf decided to uproot an old oak tree and launch it over their heads. Luckily, his aim was far off.

"Let's go!" Dean pulled his dazed brother up by the arm. "Now!"

"This is…insane…" Sam panted, running even with his brother. He could hear the thrashing of numerous werewolves behind them, and for a second he thought they wouldn't outrun them. Heart ready to leap out of his skin, Sam pushed his body to the very last reserve of strength.

"I guess they don't think…they need…the exercise…" Dean gasped out. He fell back against a tree, groaning as he felt the reopening of old wounds. Sam rested at his feet, gun still at the ready.

"I didn't think there were that many," Sam spoke his fears out loud. _I was hoping that there wouldn't be that many._

"Obviously, neither did Dad, otherwise we wouldn't have split up," Dean's mind was racing, and he saw spots in front of his eyes. His heart was doing a good job of beating itself out of his chest. He struggled to stay conscious, struggled to keep talking.

"The only way…to get rid of them all…and to save our asses…is to kill their leader…"

"Wasn't Dad supposed to do that?"

"If he had, they wouldn't still be trying to kill us…dumbass…" Dean's voice faded, and he let his eyes shut. Worried hands touched his face.  
"Dean?"

No answer. Sam prodded his brother, hoping this was a bad joke. "Dean, wake up!"

Labored breathing was the only response Sam got. It was then that he saw the tears in Dean's shirt, and the blue-black bruising on his chest in between the rips of fabric.

"God…" Sam could no longer keep the tears at bay. "Dean…what am I supposed to do…"

Sam was used to big brother having all the answers, being the unwanted protection from the evil in the night…and now, he was on his own.

"Dean, I don't know what to do…wake up…" Dean was, however, held fast in unconscious slumber. Sam remembered the wounds from before on Dean's back, and thought of infections and pus, gangrene and death.

"No, come on, dude," It was then that Sam heard a sound from his worst nightmare. It was innocent enough, but Sam knew just what made that noise. He saw nothing, but he heard the shuffling of leaves.

A snuffle came from the bushes next to the tree. Sam was too afraid to look up, so he simply clutched his gun and prayed for Dean to wake up, or his father to show.

Nothing.

Sam was on his own. He had to protect his brother.

………………..

Chapter 11

Sam had never hunted alone before. He was too young, too inexperienced, too scatterbrained, too smart for his own good. Those were the reasons given by his father and Dean, but he knew the real reason was that they wanted to protect him.

Now, Sam wished he had an ounce of that protection against what was sure to be an all-out assault.

He could hear the werewolf, he could smell the werewolf, and he was positive that the werewolf could smell him. But the key question was, could the werewolf smell an unconscious Dean?

Because if it could, they were in some deep shit.

Sam stood in front of his older brother's body, not letting the whimper escape from his lips. He stood his ground and kept his gun trained on where the werewolf would most likely appear.

_I can do this. I can do it for Dean. And Dad. And all the innocent people that died here. _

A shot rang out, followed by a keening cry. The werewolf fell through the bushes, its still-salivating mouth open and its head covered in blood. To be sure of safety, Sam shot it again.

He stared. The werewolf stared back, its glazed, dead eyes locked in a fight for its soul. Sam was afraid he would vomit, but swallowed it down at the last second.

_Come on, Sam, focus._ The first thing on his mind was getting Dean to safety. Shaking off his own injuries and fatigue, Sam eyed his surroundings. He needed to find a place that the werewolves wouldn't find, and couldn't reach.

_Bingo._

A rock formation loomed in the near distance, the closest rocks being gigantic in size. Dean could easily fit into the crevice made by two rocks, and be kept out of sight. Sam had never seen the werewolves venture near the rocks, and he sent a quick prayer up to the heavens that they wouldn't be interested in that now.

Sam spun around, making sure that no werewolves were about to leap out of the trees at him before he grabbed Dean's jacket with both hands, gun tucked safely into his pants.

"God, Dean," Sam huffed, trying not to cause more pain to his unconscious sibling than necessary. "You need to lay off the burgers,"

Sam gently tucked Dean into the crevice of the rocks, taking care to make sure he was still breathing. His breathing had become less laborious, and Sam knew that he was now settling into a sleep to heal his body. What concerned Sam was the loss of color to Dean's body, and the obviously broken ribs that were impeding Dean's breathing ability. _What if…what if he…_

_Don't go there, Sam. He's not going to die. He can't._

But looking down at his injured brother, Sam couldn't help but think of how much blood he had lost, and how many knocks on the head he sustained, and all of the injuries he received.

_Why can't you be more careful, Dean?_

Sam covered Dean's body with his jacket, and stood back. Dean simply looked like a part of the formation, and Sam hoped that nothing would think otherwise.

"We are so getting you to a hospital, dude," Sam murmured, backing away from his brother. He was greatly hesitant in leaving Dean there, vulnerable and injured, nonetheless unconscious. He would be safe there, wouldn't he?

_Of course not. Winchester luck means he's probably not safe anywhere._

Sam stared at Dean's body, willing him to wake up and tell him what to do. What would he say?

"_Use your head, Sammy," _Sam jumped, Dean's voice in his head seeming like reality. _Maybe I need to go to the hospital too._

"Alright, think, Sam," he muttered to himself. "What can I do…"

Then it came to him.

_Duh._

_I have to find Dad._

_We have to kill the leader._

_Then we can help Dean._


	11. Sammy and John

**Oh my goodness, you guys, I'm so sorry! I dropped off the face of the earth for two years, and now I have a completely different life (almost). I can't believe it's been so long, but I'm finally updating. And I will finish this story. Promise. Thanks to all the reviewers and fans that stayed with me!  
**

**Standard disclaimers apply, and please review and let me know that you love me.  
**

**Chapter 12- Sammy and John**

Heavy breathing echoed through the trees, and Sam clamped a hand over his own mouth as he weaved through the forest. Leaving one weapon with Dean (_in case he wakes up, _Sam thought to himself), Sam had his gun in hand, and a plan in his head. _But having a plan and actually accomplishing the goals are two different things, _he thought, looking around in paranoid fright.

He was on his own for the first time. It had never been JUST him; there was always Dean with his stupid comments and Dad with his calm orders.

But now, he was on his own.

_I can do this._

_I can do this._

_I think I can, I think I can…dammit._

Suddenly, a keening wail echoed through the greenery, and Sam froze in his spot, ducking for cover next to a tree. A hubbub of noise was emanating from a spot just beyond Sam's vantage point, and his hands started to shake with fear.

Feeling a sudden surge of bravery at the thought of his unconscious brother needing medical attention, Sam slowly rose from his position, covertly making his way to the next tree to provide cover for him as he scanned the surrounding area.

_The sooner we're done with this, the sooner we can take Dean and Dad to a hospital._

Grunting sounds came from a cluster of trees partially blocking Sam's view. Moving closer, cursing the twigs snapping under his feet, Sam peered into the spaces between the large oaks and could make out the backs of several werewolves, all gathered together.

He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. _ I can do it._

Sam poised his finger on the trigger of his gun, steadying his shaking hand with rehearsed practice. His finger pushed down on the trigger, millimeter by millimeter, until it was almost compressed.

It was at that critical moment that it was unceremoniously knocked from his hand with a hiss of displeasure from none other than John Winchester.

Sam nearly wet his pants in fear, stifling the girlish shriek that erupted from his throat.

"Dad, what the--"

"Sammy, you idiot, you were going to take on those three by yourself? Where's your brother?" Sam didn't miss the look of terror in his father's eyes at that question. "Is he--"

"I don't know, Dad, he was pretty knocked out…I hid him where they can't find him, he needs a hospital soon though."

His father let out a strangled sigh of relief, glancing back at the werewolves holding their conference. "Sammy, I found him. I found Yaswan, I know where he is, he's pretty badly injured, but we can take him. He has a couple of big bad bodyguards on him though, I think these three are part of the group out looking for us," John said, pointing discreetly at the werewolves with their backs to the father and son. "We don't have to worry about them, as long as we get Yaswan before they get us."

Sam's eyes lit up. "Once we get the leader, the rest of the pack is going to die out, right? And then we can get Dean and take you both to a hospital?"

"I don't need a hospital, Sammy, I'm fine. Your brother, on the other hand, needs to learn not to be so careless," growled John, raising his voice a little more. Sam grinned internally, knowing his father and his stubborn ways.

"Whatever you say Dad, whatever you say…"

John gave his youngest son a calculating gaze. "You can do this with me, Sam. I know it's scary, but we can take out this creature together."

Sam's face fell a little. "I don't know, Dad, this is Dean's job…I'm supposed to keep a watch out and run like hell if anything happens…" he whispered even more quietly.

"Yeah well something did happen, didn't it." Sam looked up at the sound of his father's unnaturally soft voice. "To help your brother, we have to finish this. You know that."

_For Dean._

Putting on his best game face, Sam scowled.

"Let's take him."

John grinned at the sight of his little boy taking on the role. Worried as he may be about Dean, he knew that Sam wouldn't have left him in a place the wolves could find him at. He winced a bit as he stepped on his bad leg, feeling the pain reverberate through his body.

"Alright, son. Let's finish this."

Both father and son had, however, failed to realize that the werewolves that had been conversing in front of them had disappeared. Not until John swiveled around to find three drooling, angry werewolves mere feet away staring them down did he notice his mistake.

At that time, he said the only thing he could think of.

"Fuck."


	12. Please Don't Let Us Die

**Title: Please Don't Let Us Die**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**A/N: Have I mentioned how terribly sorry I am at the sporadic updates? I'm on my winter break so I should be writing a whole lot more, and I hope you guys review because it will definitely motivate me to finish this story! I'm working on some new things too, check out my oneshots, guys! Okay PLEASE review and I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! Cheers!**

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**

Dean felt like he was struggling out of a fog.

_Sammy…Dad…_

His mind was attempting to bring him out of his induced unconsciousness because he knew he had to find his brother and father…but the damage needed to be repaired by sleep. So his body simply hibernated for a while, behind the rock in the forest, hopefully camouflaged from enemy eyes.

---

Meanwhile, Sammy and John were…well, running for their lives.

"KEEP GOING!" John roared, gesturing frantically with the gun to urge the younger Winchester on. "I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine!" Sam panted, his eyes taking in his limping father falling further and further behind. The snarling werewolves pursuing them were incentive enough to keep up the pace, but Sam wasn't sure how much longer his injured father could stay with him. His wheezing was worrying the teenager, who knew John wouldn't admit pain until bones were poking out of his skin. "Do we have a plan?"

"Of course we have a plan!"

"What's the plan?"

"SHOOT!"

Sam turned back to face forward, still running full speed, and smacked straight into a hairy beast rearing up on its hind legs. Without even thinking about it, he raised the gun to eye level and let a shot ring out, darting to the left and into the dense tree growth. _Come on, come on, follow me…that's right._

Sam ducked behind an especially large oak, waiting. He heard the howls of the wounded werewolf amplify in their proximity, and held out until he was sure of its position. Spinning around the tree, Sam paused. He was stunned by the appearance of a beautiful black haired woman, naked and stumbling towards him with a cut running down the side of her head.

"Help me," she panted to him, her yellow eyes glazed. "Come closer."

_Wait. Yellow?_

Too late, Sam realized what the creature was that was holding this spell over him, and he raised his weapon just as she leapt. _Oh my God…I'm going to die…_

A silver bullet whizzed by his ear, catching the mutating woman-werewolf in the middle of the forehead just as she was about to sink her teeth into Sam.

John hobbled towards the girl, who was half-transitioned into her wolf self in order to deliver a killing blow to the youngest Winchester. He kicked her once to make sure she was dead, and turned around to make sure Sam was okay. Shocked at his father's callousness, Sam shook off the rest of the spell the wolf had over him.

"What the hell?"

"I'm telling you, Sammy, these aren't normal werewolves. It was dumb of you to run out here, you could have just ducked and I would have taken it out! I swear, boy, sometimes you just don't think!"

"Dad!" Sam attempted to control his rage. "I can take care of myself!"

"Yeah," John snorted, attempting nonchalance but choking on his breath at the same time. "I can see that."

Sam's nostrils flared and he turned, heading back towards the half-hacked path they carved through the forest. "So what was this genius plan of yours, Dad?"

"The other two seem to have circled back around, they'll probably try to get us when we're closer to the den of the leader. We need to get this thing _now_, before it sends out any more of its soldiers."

Sam couldn't help but think of his brother. "I wonder if Dean's okay,"

"I'm sure he's fine, don't think about him now. Worry about the hunt first."

Sam's anger flared up again. "So, what, your own family doesn't matter to you as much as the hunt does?"

John stopped behind Sam; Sam heard the crunch of the leaves end. "Is that what I said, at all? It's important for us right _now_ to take care of this Yaswan thing so we can get your brother to a hospital! Get your priorities straight, son."

Sam kept walking, tuning out his father and focusing on the job ahead. "How much further."

"A bit, check your clip and make sure you didn't waste any more bullets than necessary."

Sam gritted his teeth and checked his gun. "I'm good."

"There's no point in even being quiet anymore, they know we're coming, we just have to rush it and hope for the best."

"Wow Dad, that's a great plan, got the suicide note I can sign too?" His sarcastic tone wasn't missed by John, who gritted his teeth in a similar image of his young son.

"Show some respect."

No response to that, as Sam was busy hacking through bushes.

"It's a shit plan, Dad, that's what, seven werewolves against two mortals?"

"They're easily killed, you can aim, can't you? Your brother wouldn't have given me any lip about this, you know,"

"I'm not my brother!"

"I'm well aware. Take out the leader first and you won't need to worry about fighting the others,"

"We have to get through the others to get to the leader!"

"Not necessarily, not if they've transformed into something else. They're smart, but they're not geniuses, they think they're more cunning than they actually are. If we anticipate their game we have a fighting chance."

Sam snorted. "Confidence booster, Dad."

"You're trained well enough for this," John grunted, painfully making his way across a large hole in the ground. "Just remember what I said."

_We're gonna die. Please don't let us die, _Sam sent up a silent prayer to the angels he thought were sometimes listening. _Seriously? This is not how it ends._

"I'm not being careless, Sammy. I just know what we're capable of, and what needs to happen. We can do this, and we don't have time for backup."

"And why don't we have time for backup?" Sam wheeled around, fixing his dad with a glare. "You're too impatient and you want the glory all to yourself?"

"Samuel!" John barked, sending a glare of his own. "At the first sign of sunlight, they will disappear until the next full moon! It will be next to impossible to hunt them, let alone stop them, and they'll have full reign of the forest. Anything and anyone in their path will be destroyed because they'll build their strength for the next full moon!"

"What?"

"These werewolves, there are so few of them, they've never been studied closely. But unlike other werewolves, these ones are most vulnerable on the full moon. Why do you think I came at this time? If we don't take care of them now, more bodies will turn up and the blood will be on my hands."

Sam felt stupid once the explanation came, and knew his father's (and his own) conscience enough to accept the fact that they were going up against these creatures, however unprepared and outnumbered they were. Heaving a deep sigh, Sam rotated his head on his neck, working out all the kinks.

_Okay, Dad, you win. This time._


End file.
